“There on the large in-folio page was a picture of a woman, somewhat brawny and plump of shape, with a face that hinted at vigour and experience. An enormous sheepskin of hair streamed from that lady’s head, and tumbled heavily down her back, the ends of its thick locks trailing on the ground. This was some improbable prank of nature — a voluminous and abundant cloak spun from the roots of her hair; and it was hard to imagine that its weight was not causing her intense pain, that it would not paralyse her head, which it made enormous. But the owner of that magnificence appeared to wear it with pride, and the text printed alongside in heavy type told the story of that miracle, beginning with the words: ‘I, Anna Csillag, born in Karlovice in Moravia, had a meagre growth of hair...’ It was a long story, similar in construction to the story of Job. Anna Csillag’s meagre growth had been caused by a decree of Providence. The whole village pitied her for this affliction. They forgave her on account of her irreproachable life, notwithstanding that she could not have been entirely blameless. And, lo and behold, as the result of their fervent prayers, the curse was lifted from her head. Anna Csillag attained the grace of enlightenment — she received signs and instructions, and she prepared a specific, a wonderful medicine, which restored fertility to her head. Her hair began to sprout, and, as if that were not enough, her husband, brothers and cousins too became ergotised in the succeeding days with huge black pelts of beards. On the opposite page was a picture of Anna Csillag six weeks after the revelation of her formula, surrounded by her brothers, brothers-in-law and nephews — mustachioed men with beards falling below their waists — and one could only look in admiration at that veritable explosion of unfalsified, bear-like masculinity. Anna Csillag delighted the whole village — upon which a veritable benediction flowed in the form of colossal crops of wavy hair and manes, and its inhabitants swept the ground with their beards, as broad as brooms. Anna Csillag became the apostle of the hirsute. And, having delighted her native town, she now wanted to delight the whole world, which she invited, encouraged and begged to accept as its salvation her divine gift — that wondrous medicine, of which she alone knew the secret.”

I, Anna Csillag, with my long hairand with the same, never fading smilehave stood for thirty years between the columnsof your newspaper just like a saint.I hold a bunch of lily-shaped stars,time does not change my angelic beauty.The cascade of my dissolved long hairflows down as long as my feetas if I were the goddess of hairiness.

I, Anna Csillag for thirty long yearshave not felt sorrow and knew no pain.But what happened to you, my son?When you look at me, I see tears in your eyes.

Oh, Annie Csillag, to me during these yearswhile the blood of your brothers has floodedthe world and painted the printer’s ink redand death has howled from these columns –

not a single hair has gone grayand not one has fallen from my head.

Oh, Annie Csillag, you holy imageof the newsprint of our bygone childhood!I’m just walking along, collecting the garbage,while becoming memory even to myself,

“As always, we sat down. The cat, shaking the chair, was licking herself beneath her tail. Father was rustling the pages of the newspaper. Mother was smiling and sewing lace to the pants. I leafed through the book. Long-haired Anna Csillag stepped forward, holding a flower in front of her. Paul Kruger was smiling. The book was brought by guests.”

“One could write much more about this. And even if those ‘hundreds of appreciating letters’ referred to in every article of Jenő Rákosi signify nothing more than those in the advertisement of Anna Csillag, it would be a mistake to deny that many people think about this thing like Jenő Rákosi does.”

“And in those bygone but unforgettable years, when men used to carefully examine women like some kind of a wonderful plant, they attributed great importance to the hair of Mária. It was obvious that she will grow it as long as that of Anna Csillag – oh, how happy will be the man who once will wash his face in this silken cascade!”

“You are withering, my old Flegman, like the flower pressed in the book of memories. You do not bring any luck any more, just like the little locks of hair which have lost their magic power, whether they were curled by a Gypsy girl or sent via C.O.D. by Anna Csillag. In 19**, after a May picnic I started to loose hair, and I discovered in the mirror that my nose had grown larger. That was my last May picnic under the oaks of Sóstó, and the only one where I did not bring home a single song, a single woman’s name from. Even the hair elixir of Anna Csillag had no effect on me, albeit I had written for it to Vienna.”

“And the man who painted the signboards, Greiner, had previously been a lamp-lighter in the cabaret Hoelle in the Theater an der Wien. He had a vivid imagination, was a great talker and soon became a bad influence on Hitler. Greiner built all sorts of castles in the air, and Hitler took his schemes very seriously. There was eager competition between them in devising plans, and Hitler would say sometimes that Greiner was a genius like Edison, with unheard-of ideas, but that he was too fickle and needed someone to carry out his ideas. Hitler wanted to unite all these people into an organization following such ideas in coöperative work. Some of them should make drawings, design advertising, paint signboards, while the others should sell these products. But he had other projects as well. At that time there was a picture in all the newspapers of a woman named Anna Csillag, with long hair that reached to the floor, and below her picture was an advertisement, starting with the words, «I, Anna Csillag…» recommending an infallible hair-growing remedy. Hitler thought something of the kind ought to be invented. He admitted that the story of Anna Csillag was an obvious bluff, but he said one could earn plenty of money with it. He proposed to fill old tin cans with paste and sell them to shopkeepers, the paste to be smeared on window-panes to keep them from freezing in winter. It should be sold, he said, in the summer, when it couldn’t be tried out. I told him it wouldn’t work, because the merchants could just say, come back in the winter; we don’t need it now. To this Hitler answered that one must possess a talent for oratory. But I thought oratory alone would be useless.”

Reinhold Hanisch: I was Hitler’s buddy, New Republic, 5-19 April 1939.Hanisch, who in the 1910s earned his living together with Hitler in Vienna, in the 30s wrote his memories that were published in the United States. When returning to Germany, he was arrested and died in the concentration camp of Buchenwald. [* This is what the Hitler in History Project tells about his death, but see claus’ well-informed comment below.]

“A commission of the Anna Csillag Company in the Kohlmarkt nearly drove Hitler mad. This businesswoman advertised and praised in all newspapers, weekly and monthly magazines her hair-growing cream. The advertisement showed a woman with long, flowing hair that reached to her ankles, and its text invariably began like this: ‘I, Anna Csillag have achieved this enormous Loreley hair through the application of the secret cream invented by me. Whoever desires to have similarly gorgeous hair should write to Anna Csillag and will receive gratis and free of charge a wonderful brochure with evidences and letters of gratitude.’ Hitler was just thrilled by this commission. ‘This is what I call advertisement!’ he told. ‘Propaganda and propaganda, until people will believe that this bullshit will really help them. Anna Csillag is a publicity genius, and perhaps tomorrow we will praise her newest invention: No head skin is necessary to hair growing any more! The cream of Anna Csillag works even on a billiard ball! No more fear! However, should there grow no hair either on the head or on the billiard ball – success is guaranteed by the latest invention of Anna Csillag, the hair root pills.’ Hitler went on with this monologue for hours. “Propaganda and propaganda until it becomes a belief and people cannot tell any more fantasy from reality’, he said literally, and then without giving any reason he suddenly hurried away. After two hours he appeared again, with a brochure of Anna Csillag in the hand. He simply could not endure it longer, he needed to go to the shop of the commissioner, to personally study the mystery of the hair growing creme propaganda.

He was especially interested in the letters of gratitude, for they had to be real, and in the given circumstances a letter of gratitude for a cream that had not helped would have costed much. Hitler thought awhile and then he said: ‘Perhaps it is a good business to write letters of gratitude for a cream.’ One of these letters especially attracted Hitler, because it was published with a full Vienna address. Hitler disappeared again, and he explored the mystery of the letter faster than a detective. In fact, the person writing the letter had been dead for several years. ‘Yes, propaganda, propaganda! A dead witness does not cost anything. No more than copying the tomb inscriptions in the Zentralfriedhof. Propaganda, a good propaganda turns doubters into believers. Anna Csillag with her enormous Loreley hair has hit the nail on its head. She sells the cream, on the basis of the letters of gratitude she guarantees the success, but she conceals that hair will really grow under the earth, in the grave. Propaganda!’ raved next Hitler, ‘what would you be able to if you stood in the service of an idea to make people happy!’ Hitler became completely crazy of this idea. He took personally the advertisement prepared by me to the Csillag company, to breathe once more the air of the hair cream sanctuary.

The idea described in some books on Hitler that he also wanted to produce some cream and to spread it similarly to the Csillag advertisement, is based on a false information. Hitler only said that if someone invented a cream that made glass unbreakable, he could absolutely make it as famous as the cream of Csillag. ‘Propaganda! We only need propaganda. Of stupid people there are always enough. Propaganda is the quintessence of every religion.’ he said. ‘Whether heaven or hair cream, only faith strengthened by propaganda can bring blessing to the priests and to Anna Csillag.”

Josef Greiner: Das Ende des Hitler-Mythos (Vienna, 1947).Greiner also lived together with Hitler in the 1910s in the men’s pansion of Vienna. His book which, according to its foreword, was written to “psychologically explain the Hitler phenomenon”, was pulped by the Allies right after its publication.

Revisiting the context, are you sure that ‘commission’ is not the right term here? In fact, Greiner speaks about a commission for an advertisement given by the Csillag company to the circle of the modest artists which also included Hitler and which made their daily living on similar commissions.

I always find people's obsession with the length of their hair to be shockingly self-absorbed. Of course, in the photograph she probably can't see herself below the shoulders unless she's using a convex mirror.

I'd no idea that Kruger looked like that (I mean the wispy beard and self-made uniform).

Perhaps this is why she had this photo made: to behold the full length of her hair. As if the act of beholding herself represented on the picture were externalized, and her point of view pushed at a distance which is physically impossible to her, but which permits her to see herself in a way she could never do with that small mirror. In fact, the picture does not simply represent her, but the act of beholding herself (and thus focusing the attention of the spectator on the hair). So when she looked at this picture, she beheld herself beholding herself and thus reliving the experience of that first beholding in a more complete way: narcissism on the square.

Wonderful article. I knew Kraus' text, but I never knew who exactly he was talking about in "Anne".

Just one correction: You biographical note makes it sound as if Hanisch was arrested after (and because of) publishing his memories. This is not quite correct. The text you quote from was published posthumously.

Hanisch had, however, collaborated with and been interviewed by several journalists. Moreover, he had sold a couple of paintings which he claimed were done by Hitler.

These alleged forgeries were in fact the reason (at least officially) why he was arrested by Austrian (not German) authorities, and not only once, but on two occasions, 1933 and 1936. (On both these occasions, as far as I'm aware, not "on returning" from anywhere else, at least not from the US.)

The circumstances and the date of his death are controversial. There is indeed a source claiming that he died in a concentration camp, another one claiming he was killed shortly after Germany annexed Austria. but there's also some credible evidence that he may have died in police custody shortly after his second arrest (i.e. several weeks before Austria's annexation).

The reliability of his account has also occasionally been put into question, but some details (e.g. names of the other inhabitants of the asylum Hitler and Hanisch lived in) have indeed been verifiable.